Tuesday, December 29, 2015

As the year draws to a close a rift in my heart opens up and there is what I want to do, what I planned to do, and all the things I left to linger in chaos, not picking out the pieces, not bothering.

I know who I want to keep close and who I want to push away. And probably I am right. For my peace of mind and happiness, I am right. But I feel the sadness rise within me for all that once was, that is no more.

The people I make an effort for, and the people I allow to fall by the wayside. I convince myself that this is the right way to go, the right way to be.

Why then, do I sit up into the wee hours of today, feeling so cut up about it? Why do I feel so guilty? How can silence make you reel the way words once did?

I don't know.

All I know is I start work tomorrow after more than a week off. I start work tomorrow.

And I need a good night's sleep.

And maybe I can transcribe an interview tomorrow and write a story. Maybe I can feed the dogs and the cats, go in early, do my work, do my work, do my work well.

About Me

I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also, of endless books. (CS Lewis)